


girl with the broadest shoulders

by kateandbarrel



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Christmas, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-15 05:51:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateandbarrel/pseuds/kateandbarrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce and Natasha on a Christmas mission to save the country from evil Santa robots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	girl with the broadest shoulders

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a present for azuremonkey, who refused to watch Teen Wolf without bribes of Bruce/Natasha fic. :D

_She’s hard._

It was a thought Bruce had of Natasha often. The way she held herself; upright, controlled. The way she took in a room, eyes darting from point to point, exits and entrances, dark corners, hiding spots for people or cameras or booby traps. It was in the timbre of her voice when she spoke, a lifetime of what he was sure were difficult experiences, but ones she never spoke about. Natasha was tough, and it wasn’t an act. It wasn’t a show. That’s just who she was.

Bruce came to appreciate it. She was a steady influence, something solid. The other guy liked steadying influences. It kept him calm and helped Bruce stay in control. He chided himself for it, for getting attached to anyone like that. He didn’t want Natasha to be his crutch. But Bruce couldn’t help it; he couldn’t keep himself from preferring her company to others’, when possible (which Tony picked up on, irritatingly enough, and teased Bruce about it, though he was misinterpreting Bruce’s motives - well, not entirely, misinterpreting, but mostly).

_She’s hard._

The thought had run through his mind again at the beginning of this mission. Natasha had needed only one partner, and strangely, she’d picked him. He knew she didn’t really need backup on this. It was a stupidly simple operation: a madman was building robots with guns for hands that he designed to look like Santa Clauses. They were set up in malls and shopping centers around the country, ready to go off on Christmas Eve and cause a bloodbath on one of the busiest shopping days of the year. The guy wasn’t an Asgardian or a Chitauri or any kind of alien at all. He wasn’t a mutant, didn’t have a super suit of iron, wasn’t pumped up on performance enhancing drugs, or even radiation. The bad guy was just a guy. A guy with a chip on his shoulder, and some undoubtedly advanced robotics knowledge, but he was a regular old human being, nonetheless. SHIELD had done the research and recon already. Their pattern detection software had picked up on the sudden appearance of the strange Santa statues going up cross country, and they’d sent agents out to deactivate them. That part would be done within a day. Now, someone just needed to take down the mastermind behind it all.

Natasha could have taken this guy down with a blindfold on, with both hands tied behind her back. And that wasn’t hyperbole. But Fury had insisted that she take a partner. Backup. And she’d picked Bruce. He’d been confused at first, but he reasoned why fairly quickly, his mind running through all the reasons as he sat in the passenger side of the quinjet, watching Natasha expertly operate it, flying them to their target in southern California.

Bruce was the least likely to get in her way. Tony was too impatient; he’d move things along too quickly, before Natasha had a chance to fully assess the situation. Steve stood out too much, with his spangly outfit and a presence powered by freedom and the American spirit, which always landed him in the center of attention (whether he wanted it or not). And if Steve stood out like a sore thumb in most situations, then Thor stood out like a... like a sore hand. Or maybe an arm. A booming voice and control over thunder wasn’t exactly desirable in a more stealth-oriented mission such as this. Natasha might have settled for Clint in regular circumstances - but Bruce knew Clint was a bit of a chatterbox in a situation like this. And he also didn’t have anywhere to perch when crammed inside a car, which is where Bruce and Natasha had been for the past hour, sitting outside the madman’s “lair” (really, a slightly rundown abandoned warehouse - How original, Bruce had said when they pulled up, earning from Natasha a quirk of her lips), waiting for the sun to go down so they could move in.

They hadn’t spoken much, just a quick rundown of how the op would unfold. Bruce spared a moment to marvel at her memory; he hadn’t seen a tablet or piece of paper in her hand since they left SHIELD headquarters, yet she managed to recall the layout of the warehouse, the madman’s personality profile, what defenses he might have at his beck and call once they got to him. Then again, she _was_ a spy originally. Remembering things was part of her business.

Bruce felt a bit of a third wheel somehow, even though it was just Natasha. Or a second wheel... maybe she was a unicycle. His mind kept wandering to stupid thoughts like that as they sat, and he studied her profile as she sat in the driver’s seat in the car, illuminated by the dying light of the sunset. He thought he wouldn’t have minded sitting there forever, in the comfortable silence with her. He watched her; her eyes were alive, alert, scanning the warehouse and its surroundings, over and over, in a pattern. Doing her job, of course - _she’s hard_ \- while he sat here staring at her instead. Like an idiot.

He shook his head at himself and turned to watch the warehouse, too. It was almost dark now, and he could see lights were on inside. Their resident madman was home. The air inside the car shifted subtly. Bruce could sense Natasha preparing herself for what lay ahead. He supposed he should have been too, but his role was an easy one. So easy he almost didn’t even need the prep for it. Once the last of the direct sunlight had faded away, and the sky was turning a deepening blue, Natasha nodded at him. A sharp, concise nod, which just meant _let’s go._

She got out of the car first, slipping quietly into the growing darkness, disappearing around a corner of the building. Once she was out of sight, Bruce waited a solid ten count, then got out of the car, loudly. He slammed the door shut behind him, coughed, stretched, shuffled his feet in the gravel yard of the warehouse lot. Surely he had the attention of the guy already. He was probably watching him from inside, maybe through a space in the warehouse door, or from the cracked, dusty window to the side of it. Bruce made his way to the door and called out an uncertain-sounding hello?

His role was easy. Distraction. He could do this in his sleep. Slightly confused, bumbling guy? Yeah, that was hard. He’d said as much to Natasha when she had explained his job to him. She’d furrowed her brow at him. _Don’t be so hard on yourself_ , was all she’d said. But somehow, that simple statement from her had made him feel something that an ordered list of all his accomplishments in life wouldn’t have been able to make him feel. Content.

Bruce thought back on the conversation and let that feeling carry him through. He shouted more “hellos,” and having received no response, he just opened the warehouse door and let himself in.

Immediately, there was a gun in his face. The barrel was inches from his eyes, and it took a second of concentration to pull his eyes away from it and move his eyes up to the gun owner’s face. But it wasn’t their mark - it wasn’t a human at all. It was one of the Santa robots. Its eyes flashed a candy cane red, and its mouth opened and closed over and over, a metallic _ho ho ho!_ reverberating through its body.

“That’s quite far enough,” came an angry voice from somewhere behind the robot. Bruce peered around and spotted him. Their madman. He was the very picture of a mad scientist: tiny, with thin, white hair flying in all directions, a pair of large gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. He was even wearing a white lab coat. “What are you doing here?!”

Bruce wasn’t nervous - the other guy would keep him from getting hurt, he knew that - but he still wanted to cast his eyes around for Natasha. He knew at what point she was supposed to have entered the building, but after that, she could have gone anywhere. But it was important that this guy think that Bruce was alone.

“I uh, sorry,” Bruce said, putting his hands up, making sure to shake them subtly in an air of nervousness. “I’m lost. Do you know where the Pancake Shack is?”

“The _what?”_

“The Pancake Shack. It’s got great reviews online. They make their own blueberry syrup...” Bruce trailed off and cleared his throat, eying the Santa robot. “Maybe, uh, maybe I should just go.”

Mr Mad Scientist laughed. It was an unhinged sound, coming not from mirth, but insanity. Bruce felt the other guy stir deep within him. He almost wanted to let him loose - the Hulk would take care of this guy in a second flat, and Natasha would be safe, wherever she was, hidden in the shadows. But SHIELD wanted this done quietly, if possible. Not that Bruce particularly cared what SHIELD wanted, really, but he did agree with them. And he didn’t like letting the other guy out if he didn’t really have to.

Besides, he trusted Natasha. She had come up with this plan. He would follow it as closely as he could.

“You’re not going anywhere. There’s nowhere to go!” Mr Mad Scientist clapped his hands together in glee. “In just under a week’s time, the stupid livestock of this country will find themselves at my mercy. Their unending consumerism, their greed, their lust for possessions will be their undoing!”

Bruce had to try very hard not to roll his eyes. This guy had just been waiting for someone to amble along and become the recipient for what he surely thought was a brilliant tirade against the degeneration of American society.

“They will all see. This obsession with things will result in a very harsh lesson about the true meaning of life. The true meaning of Christmas!”

Bruce put his hands down, tired of holding them up. Mr Mad Scientist was hardly even paying him attention. He wondered if he’d practiced this maniacal ranting to his robots. He knew Natasha was going to strike at any moment. He just needed to keep the crazy guy distracted.

“Isn’t the true meaning of Christmas just to show the people in your life that you care about them?” Bruce asked.

Mr Mad Scientist looked annoyed. “Well, yes,” he said. “But how do _presents_ do that? How does a 42-inch LCD HD TV tell someone ‘I care about you’?”

Bruce shrugged. “It’s kind of subjective, isn’t it? You can’t really police people’s intentions.”

Mr Mad Scientist’s face was turning red. _Oops._ Maybe pissing him off wasn’t the best idea.

“Look, I just wanna go eat some pancakes,” Bruce tried for an apologetic smile. “Can you call off your... Santa?”

Mr Mad Scientist opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, a pair of hands shot out from the darkness behind him, wrapping themselves around his neck. He gasped for air and clawed at the hands on his neck, but they were immovable, solid. _Hard._

He dropped after a moment. Unconscious. Dead? Bruce edged around the Santa robot - which seemed to not have noticed its creator was on the ground - and stood next to Natasha. She was breathing heavily. Bruce nudged the guy with his foot. He sputtered but didn’t awaken. Alive, at least.

“He’ll be one of the first inmates at Fury’s new bad guy prison,” Natasha mused. She put her hands on her hips and looked around. “He’s only got one robot up here. There’s more in a storage room in the basement. They’re not turned on, though. It should be easy enough to disable them all.”

“That wasn’t the plan,” Bruce said. Natasha was _supposed_ to have subdued him so they could interrogate him. And then they’d knock him out with a needle full of drugs.

She shrugged. “He was annoying me. Love Christmas, hate Christmas - who cares? But that’s not a very good reason to shoot people.”

Bruce grinned in agreement. He helped her tie up the bad guy and secure him in the trunk of the car. They spent a minute discussing the best way of deactivating the robot Santa, wondering if it had fail safes, before Natasha just broke off its gun hand and ripped the power source out of its chest. They dragged it down to the storage areas with the others and called in a cleanup team from SHIELD.

They sat against the hood of the car after finishing, and waited for the cleanup team. SHIELD had outposts all over the country - well, all over the _world_ \- so it wouldn’t take as long for them to show up as it had taken Bruce and Natasha to fly there from New York.

They had settled into silence again, which was normal for them. So Bruce thought he could be forgiven for startling slightly when Natasha spoke.

“I got you a Christmas present,” she said.

“Really?” Bruce smiled. “You didn’t have to - to do that.”

“Do you want it early?”

“You’ve got it with you?” Bruce blinked in surprise, his eyes taking in her usual skin tight black outfit, wondering exactly where she would have stashed a present.

Natasha smiled, reading his thoughts.

“Is it that smile? Because that’s... a pretty good present.”

“It’s something even better,” she said softly.

Natasha leaned into him. Her hand came up to his arm, her touch hot even through his shirtsleeve. She brought her lips close, but she paused a moment - she knew him so well, knew he needed that second just to realize what she was even doing - before she brought her lips against his.

She was kissing him.

Bruce ignored the hows or whys, and kissed her back. He could dimly hear the sound of an approaching helicopter, and he ignored it. The bad guy was awake in the car trunk, thumping against the inside of it. Bruce ignored that too. There was a chill in the air, now that the sun was gone, and he wasn’t wearing a jacket. Bruce ignored that too. He ignored all of it, because Natasha was kissing him, and because he’d realized he’d always wondered what she would feel like against him, and he realized. _She’s soft._


End file.
